


Old Trends

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angels, Crowley As Raphael (Good Omens), Fallen Angels, Gen, Memories, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-19 17:29:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19137361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: Crowley thinks of how his hair used to be, once upon a time.





	Old Trends

“I suppose you’re going to get a haircut soon,” Aziraphale said, and Crowley turned to glance at him as they stepped over the threshold into the little restaurant. It was a wonderful little place, one of Crowley’s favourite - Sicilian-owned, and the family always set upon Aziraphale like he was their long-lost cousin, chattering away and kissing his cheeks, fussing over his clothes. It always made him smile - Crowley liked seeing that. 

“Yeah, the long hair’s starting to go a bit out of fashion,” Crowley mused, and he turned to look at himself in the long mirror in the restaurant’s entrance hall, reaching up and idly curling a lock of red around his fingers. “I figure I’ll go short back-and-sides, keep it long on top and give it a bit of volume, you know. Sexy.”

“If you say so,” Aziraphale murmured, but as he said it, there was was a shy little smile on his face that made Crowley’s heart thrill, and Crowley smiled after him as Aziraphale was embraced by Isabela and her husband, putting kisses all over him.

Crowley looked back into the mirror.

He could remember what it had been like, before he’d Fallen. It was the nature of angels and demons to spill a little out of corporeal forms, without a lot of concentration, and in the offices, most people let themselves go, let it show... Crowley was a little different - his tattoo was the most of it, because all his serpentine features spilled into his  _body_ : his spine with too many vertebrae, his funny tongue, his eyes. But most people, in the offices, they spilled out of the edges of their vessels like too much wine poured into a glass...

Uriel had gold scattered on her skin; Michael  _shone_ ; Gabriel had eyes that were so brightly violet... Lucifer had shone too, brighter than Michael had. Before he’d Fallen, it had been-- It had been beautiful. You looked at him, and you felt comforted, felt his radiance settle on you, comforting.

When he Fell, he got brighter, and the light got colder. It became painful, to look at him, and that was how it was supposed to be, Crowley supposed.

And Raphael--

He reached up, gently unpinning the bun at the back of his head and shaking out his hair, letting it fall into its natural waves around his head. Carding his fingers through it, he let himself remember, for just a moment, what it had been like, once upon a time. He’d burst out of physicality, then, and his hair had been so,  _so_  red, sparks hidden in the locks, and sometimes, a little shock of flame - not enough to burn him, but just enough to catch the light, just enough to give him a halo, even as he walked upon the Earth. 

Nostalgia burned cold in his chest. 

“Crowley?” Aziraphale asked, and Crowley turned to look at him. “You needn’t, if you don’t want to. I like-- Your hair is quite lovely as-is. I didn’t mean to pester.” He actually looked a little  _worried_ , looking up at Crowley like that, and Crowley smiled, sliding his hands into his pockets as he came forward, to follow Aziraphale to their table.

“You didn’t, angel,” he murmured, voice full of affection, his old aches and pains kept to himself. “Just thinking of old hairstyles, that’s all.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale said, looking relieved, and Crowley pulled out his chair for him to sit down. 


End file.
